


Turks in the Attic

by klytaemnestra (klytae)



Series: Midgar Blues - A Collection of Shinra Noir [12]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klytae/pseuds/klytaemnestra
Summary: October 31st in the Shinra building. Something is on the loose. Find it, before it finds you. Horror/Parody.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: Midgar Blues - A Collection of Shinra Noir [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915873
Comments: 24
Kudos: 38





	1. 17:00 Hours

**Author's Note:**

> All Saint's Wake is taken from Final Fantasy XIV. Title and loose inspiration taken from Cowboy Bebop's Toys in the Attic.

_17:00 Hours_

A rare blue moon peeks just above the horizon of the plate, casting an eerie glow to Midgar’s gloomy mako tinged skies. Befitting Reno thinks as he makes his way down the hallway back to the Turks’ headquarters, Rude at his side. ‘Nothing like a good ole’ creepy as fuck full moon on All Saint’s Wake, huh, partner?’

Rude offers him something that might be a smile, though he’s not quite sure. He hasn’t looked too thrilled since this afternoon when Reno had put it into the new rookie’s head that they definitely needed to throw an in office costume party. 

‘I don’t see you wearing a costume, partner?’

Reno shrugs a little, looks down at his shirt undone just slightly lower than usual, and pokes idly at his pecs, ‘I’m Scarlet, man.’ There's a soft chuckle, and Reno for a moment looks infinitely pleased with himself.

‘Well, good thing I got you a little something for the festivities.’

Reno audibly groans.

‘You’d break Elena’s heart if you didn’t get into the spirit.’ Rude claps a hand against Reno’s shoulder, and squeezes. ‘Partner.’

The both suddenly put their backs to the wall to give Hojo who’s humming some slightly discordant tune a wide berth as he passes by. He peers at the over his spectacles, as if they’re specimens pinned to a card. ‘Not going up to the party?’

In the Shinra Ballroom floors above, the annual All Saint’s Wake corporate bash is just getting underway, Scarlet, Heidegger, Palmer, maybe even Tuesti, all partaking in an evening of drunken costumed revelry. 

‘Not our venue.’ Rude somehow remains rather intimidating even with a pair of Moogle ears set atop his head.

‘Suit yourself. I’ve heard the President’s got a new secretary who’s quite a looker.’ Hojo pauses then for good measure, eyeing them both up and down. ‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing that fine specimen.’

‘Don’t you have some eldritch horror to deal with in the basement, man? No slimy tentacle monsters?’ Place was a goddamn horror show in its own right. Hojo didn’t even need to decorate for the holiday. Reno reckons they could sell tickets to that,  _ ‘Hojo’s Haunted House of Horrors’ _ , enough to fund the Sector 5 reclamation project, get that underpass sorted after all these years.

'Oh, I'd stay away from the Drum tonight if I were you.' Hojo laughs in a manner that sounds like a threat as he practically slithers away down the hallway.

'Fuckin' creep.'

Rude is not disinclined to agree. 


	2. 18:00 Hours

_ 18:00 Hours _

The Department of Administrative Research’s office is in full festive swing. Elena had run out hours before to acquire festive decor for their ‘Turks Only’ party, little paper bats, and jack-o-lanterns adorning the walls, a cardboard standee of a skeleton now donning Reno’s often eschewed necktie. There’s a punchbowl full of spiked pumpkin cider and snacks spread across a folding table adorned with an assortment of the finest holiday kitsch the local party supply store can provide.   
  
Of the three, Elena seems the most excited, donning a black mage costume complete with pointy black hat and striped stockings. She’s pouring herself a glass of pumpkin punch, when Reno emerges dressed as an inflatable fat chocobo, decidedly perturbed to have been made to change out of what he thought was a rather hilarious non-costume idea.

‘Rude, man, I’m really not feeling it. It doesn’t do anything to accentuate my best features.’

‘And what might those be?’

Reno’s about to once more start talking about the amount of time he’s spent in the company gym, working out to maintain in his very humble and modest opinion the finest chest in all of Midgar, when Tseng walks through the door.

‘Sir!’ Elena chirps, setting aside her glass, observing him as usual donning his customary suit. ‘But Sir, you’re not in costume.’

Dark eyes narrow, flitting from Reno, Rude, then back to Elena. ‘I’m … a vampire. I left my fangs in my other suit coat. Dry cleaning. Bloodstains.’ He waves them off, passing by the table of spooky treats, and alcohol to settle at his desk, intent on doing paperwork, or something of the sort.

‘But Sir, it’s All Saint’s Wake.’ She continues, lifting a glass of punch. ‘We were hoping you’d join us, doesn’t seem fair all the higher ups get to have fun while we’re stuck down here.’

‘Laneys got a point there, boss.’

Tseng sighs, looks at his wrist watch. ‘I have an appointment with the VP in an hour.’

Reno gives him a look. ‘Invite blondie, ahem, I mean the VP down to join us, then. He didn’t seem opposed to drinking with us last year.’

Yes, he had not been, but then again there had been the matter of Palmer swearing that entire evening to the other executives he had seen the Vice President en route to the Turk’s office in full Drag. ‘I’m certain he has more important matters to contend with, Reno.’

‘I’m going to call him.’

‘You’ll do no such thing.’ It’s not quite a threat, but Reno hesitantly sets the phone back down into its cradle, and makes some groan about how Tseng’s always trying to mess with his fun.

It’s Rude who breaks the tension, ‘At least have a drink with us, Elena put this together all by herself, it would be a shame.’ His eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses, though there is something about the way he wears those Moogle wings that makes Elena giggle.

Tseng pauses a moment as if to consider, taking in his surroundings. The little bats, pumpkins, Moogles donning mage’s hats, and sets aside his fountain pen. ‘Very well.’


	3. 19:00 Hours

_ 19:00 Hours _

Elena is laughing over some story Reno is regaling them with about the time they lost the Vice President in Wall Market, while Tseng was in Junon on a mission to apprehend a rogue employee selling corporate secrets to a rival weapons developer. He’d gone missing for 16 hours before they found him locked in a private suite at the Honeybee. He pours himself another drink, then Rude, and looks to Tseng who seems to at least be more relaxed than he was an hour before, tie slightly undone, wearing a soft smile as he takes a sip of his drink, adding in a few key corrections on Reno’s rather overblown retelling of just exactly what had taken place, though, yes, it had involved a very naked Palmer locked in the trunk of one the the Don’s lackey’s cars. Both Reno and Rude had sworn they thought about permanently casting a blind spell to rid themselves of that image.

‘If you’ve never seen that pasty ass, trust me--’ Reno stops abruptly, straightening in his chair, as they all collectively turn to see what’s caught his attention.

Rufus Shinra stands in the doorway, dressed all in white, suit coat immaculate as if he’s heading to a board meeting. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t want to interrupt your fun.’ The way his light eyes move toward Tseng can’t possibly go unnoticed, and Reno and Rude at least know what that look means. Rufus is here because that appointment is in no manner of a professional nature. Reno shoots Tseng a knowing look, tongue sliding suggestively against the side of his cheek in a rather lewd facsimile. Rufus Shinra is here because he wants to fuck. It’s the worst kept secret in all of Shinra, seems everyone from the low level admins, to Heidegger suspect it, everyone except Rufus’s daddy, the President himself, and even then there’s a possibility he does, and simply chooses to say nothing. If it’s discretion he asks of his son, there’s nothing more discreet than sleeping with a man who’s paid to keep secrets on a corporate level.

Rufus’ expression softens when Tseng moves to stand, waves a half gloved hand as if in dismissal. ‘I didn’t know you were having a party.’ He laughs a little and there’s a slight toss of his head, as if he can never quite clear his vision of that damn hair. ‘I suppose it is All Saints Wake, could hear the raucous from the ballroom upstairs.’ He pauses, lips pursed as if in thought. ‘Tseng, I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Sir.’

‘It’s fine.’ He smiles, looking at Tseng beneath dark lashes. ‘You know I keep late office hours.’ He turns then, and slips out the door, and for a moment if they didn’t all know better it was as if they’d seen a ghost, when Elena looks down the hall the VP is nowhere to be found.

‘What was that all about?’ She asks, watching the way the lights in the corridor seem to flicker, and that’s not creepy at all, not one bit.

Reno gives a slight shrug. ‘He and the boss got something to work out, I guess.’

‘Huh.’ She doesn’t look quite convinced.

Tseng’s voice nearly startles them all, ‘The Vice President and I have some work we need to look into tonight. Something  _ unfinished _ .’


	4. 20:00 Hours

_ 20:00 Hours _

Reno reclines across the couch, fat chocobo costume half deflated as he stares up at the ceiling. ‘Man, I wish we had some weed. Bet the VP has some of the good stuff stashed away.’

Elena’s on her 5th glass of punch, witchy boots settled against the desk, Rude is idly poking at the marshmallow Moogles with a decorative toothpick.

‘That’s cannibalism, partner.’

‘I saw you eating chocobo wings earlier,  _ partner _ .’

Tseng remains completely sober, but Reno suspects he’s used to drinking with Rufus, and that kid is sort of notorious for drinking expensive cognac in excess, and then shotgunning you with the finest Kupo Kush in Midgar. Unfortunately, Reno finds himself in a predicament. The punch bowl is dangerously low on rations, and it’s barely 8 PM.

‘Hey, Rude. Do a guy a favour and check the storage room for booze.’ He knows there’s some bottles left in there from their last party. Enough to keep this one going well into the night. After all, no one upstairs is going to be in any state to function tomorrow anyway. Rude says something that sounds a lot like a complaint, but rises from where he’s been skewering holiday treats, to go retrieve some more alcohol.

The Turks' storage room is at the far end of the hallway, something usually kept for old dusty files, the real fun stuff hidden further below ground in an arsenal, the office on this floor mostly for show, administrative work, and meetings. The door creaks open with a groan, and when Rude tries the lights, the bulb appears to be blown. He pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, bathing the room in looming shadows. Something skitters to his left. ‘Fuckin’ rats.’ The lower levels of the tower are notorious for their state of disrepair, the President funneling funds into other projects, while Rude sets live traps around the office in hopes of humanely capturing the vermin to set free on his visits down in the slums. He trips over something, a filing cabinet, maybe. No, a minifridge. ‘When did Reno--’

There’s another scritch scratch of something running along the ceiling, Rude looks up, shining his light into the rafters when he hears a scratch, and everything goes black.

Back in the office Reno begins to complain. It’s been ten minutes since Rude went on his quest to retrieve the alcohol from the storage room, and now his cup is empty, and Elena’s drained the very last of the punchbowl. ‘Hey Rude, what’s takin’ so long, buddy?’ His voice echoes back at him from the corridor. And when there is no reply, he grumbles about having to do everything himself, and marches, fat chocobo head entow, down to check on his partner.

He flips on the switch, fluorescent mako lighting illuminating the space, Rude’s on the floor, Moogle ears askew, rubbing a gloved hand against the slide of his head. ‘How’d you get the lights?’

‘What happened about the booze?’

He must have tripped, they deduce, hit his head, and temporarily blacked out. The place is a mess, and without the lights it’s practically like navigating the collapsed highway in Sector 5.

Reno cracks open a bottle of whiskey, adds some soda, and taking a long sip. ‘Rude said there’s a rat problem in the storage room. Probably should see if we can do something about that.’

‘We’re not exterminating them.’ Rude supplies, nursing a glass of straight whiskey in hopes that it numbs the dull throb in his head.

Elena emphatically agrees. If there are rats, they should find a way to relocate them, adding, ‘After all, it’s not their fault they have no place else to go.’ She glances at Tseng fidgeting with his phone, idly looking at the time.

‘Hey boss, if you needed to get on to that meeting with the VP, we can keep the party going without you, you know.’ Reno knows Tseng is thinking about getting some of that ass, and the longer he stays here, the more restless he’ll become, like some caged coeurl. Doesn’t blame him, he’s drunkenly been kissed by Rufus Shinra, knows if those kisses are any indication of what it’s like to fuck blondie, it’s got to be mind blowing, the kind of sex one risks their job security over, though it’s not quite only job security at risk here. Fucking your boss’s only legitimate son is problem enough, when that boss is the most powerful man on the planet who’s sent people to their deaths for simply challenging him during a board meeting, it’s a possible death sentence.

Tseng doesn’t need to be told twice, he makes a slow show of it, though, organizing his desk, checking a few emails before powering down his computer. ‘Enjoy your night. Reno, Rude, Elena.’ He offers them the slightest of nods as he leaves.

Reno leans against the door, watching the way Tseng’s pace seems to speed up as he makes his way toward the elevators, and just as he turns back to make some quip to Rude about it, he sees from the corner of his eye the dark shadow of something that looks a hell of a lot like a tentacle slipping up into the air ducts.

‘Partner. What did you say you saw in the storage room again?’


	5. 21:00 Hours

_ 21:00 Hours _

Tseng finds Rufus Shinra silhouetted against the moonlight, a glass of cognac in hand, clad in what he suspects is nothing but a silken robe. He crosses the room, jacket already discarded in a drape of black across a chair. His lips find the nape of his lover’s neck, breathing in the scent of expensive cologne, and when Rufus turns to kiss him, he can taste the bitterness of apricots and almonds on his tongue.

‘Did you enjoy your party?’ Rufus’ voice is low, fingers already trailing along the edge of his robe teasingly. Gloved hands slide over fragile shoulders, down the length of his arms, before settling to wrap around his wrists.

‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Sir.’

Rufus captures his mouth in another kiss, tongue flicking out to run against the edge of his teeth, and when he feels the sharp point of a fang, he smiles. ‘So you wore them?’

Tseng returns the smile, revealing a set of custom vampire fangs. Rufus bares his neck, and he latches on. Rufus moans beneath his touch, but as Tseng deepens the bite, he sighs softly, ‘Not yet, you’ve not seen my costume.’

He pulls away for the barest of moments, sliding the robe from his shoulders to reveal a sexy white mage’s costume, little more than lingerie, definitely something the Honeybee has released for their All Saint’s Wake costume collection. ‘I know Elena went with a mage, too. But I thought the dangerous vampire might like to drink the blood of an innocent.’

‘We both know you’re nothing of the sort.’

‘You wound me, Tseng. You know I only let one man have this ass.’ Tseng grips it then, one firm cheek in each hand, barely concealed beneath diaphanous white fabric. It is a very nice ass.

‘And so, my dangerous creature of the night, what part of me would you like to suck first?’

There is no hesitation, Tseng sweeping Rufus into his arms, mouth at his throat, and carries him into the bedroom to act out whatever ghoulish roleplay his lover has in mind, as Darkstar makes a hasty retreat. Rufus sprawls out across the mako tinged sheets, cock already straining. Tseng slides the sheer fabric down his hips, nips softly at a pale inner thigh.

‘Harder.’

Tseng is happy to comply, fangs sinking into delicate flesh, not enough to draw blood, but Rufus will have marks there for days. The thought sends a certain thrill through him as he swiftly undoes his belt and trousers. He kneels before Rufus on the mattress in only his dress shirt and tie, cock hard. Rufus’ hand wraps around the strip of silk, and pulls him down for a kiss.

‘Bite me again.’ Tseng does, along his collarbone, tasting the faintness of soap, and the soft tang of skin, gloved hands trailing over the soft fabric of Rufus’ costume. He looks lovely there, all dressed up for him, begging to be dominated this night. He slides the silken knot of his tie loose, before capturing Rufus’ wrists and binding them to the bedpost. And when he’s done, he settles back and looks at his handiwork. ‘No screaming, we don’t want to alert anyone.’

Rufus’ smile is wicked. ‘Bite me, fuck. Tseng.’ He does, again, and again, mouth trailing lower, a quick nip at one pert nipple, another at the sharp of his hip, interspersing kisses and soft licks before settling between Rufus thighs, and swallowing his cock to the root. The sound that escapes his lover’s lips is all the encouragement he needs, cautiously dragging the sharp edge of fangs along the length.

A litany of filth falls from bite swollen lips, Rufus’ body arching as he pulls against his bonds, rendered nearly helpless in the wake of what Tseng is doing to him with that mouth. Tseng withdraws suddenly, drawing a cry of frustration from Rufus.

‘Did you hear that?’

Rufus looks down at him, eyes glassy with lust, ‘What? Hear what?’

Tseng looks to the doorway, listening to the high pitched whine of Darkstar, a soft growl, then back at his lover who looks as if he’s about to die if Tseng doesn't touch him again. ‘I swear I heard  _ something _ .’ Tseng resumes his ministrations, taking Rufus into his mouth once more, but he cannot quite shake the sensation that they are suddenly not alone.

Rufus is dangerously close to completion, when Tseng finally withdraws once more, pulls off his gloves with his teeth, one agonizing finger at a time, and slicks up his cock. ‘If you think I’m not fucking you while you’re in that--’

Rufus spreads his legs in invitation, so hard now that he thinks he might go mad with need. ‘Why do you think I’m wearing it?’ Tseng slides a finger in, then another, until Rufus relaxes beneath his touch, and then positions himself, Rufus’ legs angled to the side giving him access, he slides home with a low groan. He falls into a steady rhythm, hips snapping against the soft curve of Rufus’ ass, enjoying the way he grips him just so, it’s a sensation he’ll never tire of, being buried to the hilt inside that yielding heat. When he begins to pick up his pace, hand gripping one slender ankle to brace Rufus’ thigh up against his shoulder, he hears that sound again. The soft scratching of something as if it’s in the air ducts.

_ Rats. _ He looks up at the ceiling overhead, and thinks how it’s best not to mention the possible presence of vermin in the Vice President’s penthouse of all places. Maybe this place truly is an old decaying relic of a building.

He resumes his pace, driving into Rufus who moans and gasps and begs him to bite him again. Tseng leans down, taking Rufus’ cock expertly in hand, while his teeth latch onto the curve of his neck. He feels the warmth of cum between them then, Rufus’ mouth open in a strangled cry, and gives himself up to the building pleasure, stifling a noise he cannot contain into his lover’s neck.

He holds him close for a moment, until their hearts settle, and slowly undoes the knot at Rufus’ wrists, lips gentle against the red marks left there from the way he’s strained so during the throes of passion, and nips at one wrist.


	6. 22:00 Hours

_22:00 Hours_

Tseng looks across the tub, enjoying the way steam rises around them, the smell of bergamot and rosemary wafting around them as Rufus Shinra reclines, his head resting against a folded towel, eyes closed, a glass of icy champagne in hand. Tseng reaches for one of those long legs beneath the water, lifting it just barely before teasingly biting at his calf, eliciting a sharp yelp from his lover. Icy blue eyes glare at him. ‘I thought you wanted to spend the evening with a creature of the night, Sir.’

‘It tickles, stop.’ Rufus replies, taking a sip of his champagne, ‘And anyway, I need to relax after that.’

‘I’ll give you a massage if you’d like.’

‘Yes.’ Rufus smiles, settling back into the water, and allowing his eyes to fall shut. ‘I want caviar, and a massage, and--’ He makes a soft yelp, ‘I told you to stop.’

‘I didn’t.’

Eyes narrow accusatorily as he stares at Tseng.

Tseng gives him another look as if to say, _I’m not doing anything_. Before rising from the tub, skin tinged pink and glistening as he reaches for a fluffy white towel. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

He begins to dress, dark dress slacks, and shirt, unconcerned with his slightly disheveled appearance at this hour, with the rest of the Shinra hierarchy engaging in other frivolities in the ballroom below. As he stands there, combing his slightly damp hair back, he swears he can hear the bass of some big bang several floors down echoing up into Rufus’ apartment. They’ll need more ice for the champagne, and if Rufus wants caviar, that means he’ll want it delivered with all the accoutrement. Tseng can’t complain, the sex tonight has been nothing short of spectacular, and with little else to occupy his time this night, he thinks of how he’ll make use whatever mood his lover is in this evening and have him again, perhaps twice. A low ache of pleasure already shooting between his legs.

In the next room, Tseng can hear Rufus humming along with the softly lilting jazz that plays from discreet speakers, and is about to take a peek at what he knows is Rufus going about his nightly ritual of bodycare, when there’s a sudden shriek. Darkstar is on her feet in an instant, rushing past Tseng toward her master.

Rufus is practically perched on the countertop, expensive bottles of lotion and oils scattered across the white marble. ‘There’s something in here!’

Tseng looks around, checking around the tub, and beneath the ornate vanity. ‘Sir, there’s nothing.’

‘Tseng. Something touched me.’ Rufus lifts the hem of his bathroom, revealing what looks like a long raised welt along his ankle. And when they both look up, alerted by a soft scratching sound, they watch the dark shadow of _something_ slipping past the intake vent.

‘I think we might need back up.’


	7. 23:00 Hours

_ 23:00 Hours _

Rufus Shinra looks an absolute sight, dressed in what Reno can only deduce is a sort of smoking jacket. Some more of that high end runway stuff he so loves. Made even better still by the way he’s toting his custom shotgun, his murder hound, Darkstar in full attire of spiked collar and chains, like some S&M gear gone wrong. At his side Tseng sans suit coat and tie, shoulder holsters packing two loaded peacemakers, hair still slightly damp, and Reno doesn’t even have to speculate as to  _ why _ they’re both attired this way.

Elena on the other hand, shoots him a look, and asks if the meeting had taken place in Rufus’ private hot tub. Reno laughs, knowing it’s not far from the truth.

‘We’ve got a situation. 

‘Yeah, boss. Saw something slither right into the ducts.’

‘Something was in the bath.’ Rufus supplies through clenched teeth, as if the very notion of that makes him want to scrub his skin off with some corrosive.

‘The Vice President saw something in his bathroom.’

Reno laughs at that, there’s really no good way of explaining to Laney why Tseng had been there while Rufus was in the bathtub, and if she asks, that’s on Tseng. Let him spell it out for her. Reno taps his mag rod against his shoulder as if in thought. ‘Saw Hojo earlier. He made some vague threat about the Drum. Could be a lead.’

‘You think something got loose?’

Reno turns then to Elena, and shrugs. ‘Could be. Something got ole’ Rude here earlier. Probably the same thing the VP saw.’

He suspects Hojo is still at the festivities, could be a good time to take a peek downstairs and see what the old bastard has cooking. ‘Want me and Rude to check it out?’

‘Whatever it is, it was last seen on the Executive Level, might be trying to get down to the lab, or possibly  _ up. _ ’

Rufus gives a humourless laugh. ‘Some monster on the loose decides to crawl up to my old man’s office on the one night he’s not there. How fitting.’

Reno knows there’s no love lost between those two, and it doesn’t seem entirely unlikely that whatever it is,  _ if _ indeed it is something from one of Hojo’s tanks, might be on a mission to infiltrate the hierarchy. ‘You know what he’s got down there. What if it’s not some mindless thing, but fully aware of what’s happening to it. What if--’

‘It’s stalking us?’ Tseng asks, dark eyebrow raised as if waiting to see where Reno is going with this.

‘I dunno, man. It just seems like it went after Rude, but didn’t do shit. Then slithers up into the VP’s penthouse.’ That sounds a hell of a lot like stalking.

‘Well, it picked a hell of night. The entire lot is in the ballroom.’ It’s easy pickings, if this creature is intelligent, and they all are beginning to consider the very real possibility that it is. Sephiroth wasn’t the only ethically dubious experiment Research and Development engaged in, and Hojo has been quiet of late, too quiet for anyone’s liking. And that weird comment from earlier keeps ringing in Reno’s ears.  _ I’d stay away from the Drum tonight if I were you. _ A warning, or a threat, Hojo definitely is behind this. Creep probably didn’t properly lock up in his sprint to get up to the party to lech on the pretty admins.

Rufus racks his shotgun, and gives Tseng a pointed look. ‘So what do you suggest?’

‘I suppose we’re taking a long elevator ride downstairs.’

During his time at Shinra, Reno’s been down here a grand total of 4 times. Whatever R&D got up to didn’t concern him, and he’d rather not know. He remembers those poor bastards Tseng had been assigned to, wound up like a pair of lab rats strapped up to all grades of shit sitting in mako tanks while Hojo poked and prodded and cut away at their very humanity. The whispers of clones, mindless and broken, trapped somewhere between the living and the dead. Tanks filled with monsters from every corner of the planet. Truly the stuff of a horror film.

When the elevator doors open, they’re met with the strong scent of mako, and something darker, decay, death, as if the rot of this place has permeated it. Darkstar makes a high pitched whine, before Rufus can reach out and console her. The dog is a trained killer, like them, but even she knows how  _ wrong _ this place feels.

‘Glad to see what he’s done with the place.’ Rude’s voice echos into the vast cylindrical space.

‘Yeah, yeah, home sweet fucking home.’

Rufus gives a look of pure disgust, light eyes surveying their surroundings, rows after rows of tanks filled with all manner of creature. ‘When this is mine, I’m shutting this horror show down.’

They step out onto the landing, movements guarded, cautious. If something has broken out of one of these tanks, then there is always the possibility that it’s not the only one. Hojo isn’t exactly careless, but he does love to create a bit of chaos, and tonight seems as good a night as any to stir up some absolute mayhem. 

‘Hey guys, take a look at this will you.’ Elena shines a flashlight along the grating, the light reflecting off the sheen of a trail of slime left by  _ something _ . ‘What do you make of that?’

‘Down here, it could be anything.’ Tseng provides, hand already going for the pistol nestled beneath his left arm.

There’s a clang to their left, the hiss of steam leaking from a broken pipe, the steady drip of something they all hope is simply water. The place is an absolute mess, and it’s a wonder it’s not a common occurrence to have something break out of one of these tanks. Rufus wears a look of disgust, hand tightly wound around Darkstar’s lead as she begins to growl.

Reno tests the spark on his rod, before shouldering it. ‘Guess we find out.’


End file.
